


How Far We've Come

by trohbed (qfiction)



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: (those are all different universes), Abed is Asexual, Abed is Autistic, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fanfiction, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Comedy, Jeff and Annie are minor, M/M, Meta, Mistaken Identity, Soulmates, Written for a Class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qfiction/pseuds/trohbed
Summary: “Okay,” Troy says, catching his breath, “So let me get something straight. I’m in the wrong world?”“'World' is putting it generously. It’s a mini-universe specifically tailored to carry out archetypal narratives. But you are in the wrong one, and quite frankly, considering the look of those soldiers and your total lack of training, I’m not sure you’ll be able to survive here.”--Coffee shop AU!Troy ends up in Prince!Abed's universe. As they work together to get Troy back to his own universe, they must grapple with what it means to truly belong somewhere--or with someone.A painfully meta piece written for a comedy class and adapted to actually be fulfilling.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1: Royalty AU

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter includes:  
> -Jeff  
> -Swearing  
> -Mild injury (and improper first aid)

Troy’s day begins in a large room. He takes a sweeping look around at the greatness of it, with its grand staircase, its dramatic multi-story curtains, and its massive family portraits in intricate gold frames. 

“Woah,” he mutters. “This isn’t Starbucks.”

A recognizable voice shouts from behind him, “Barnes!” and he turns back to look. Jeff stands by the front door, book open in his hand. “You can gawk later. Up the stairs and to the left.”

Troy isn’t sure whether he’s expecting to find a Starbucks up the stairs and to the left, or merely some answers, but he’s disappointed when he follows Jeff’s directions and arrives at neither. Instead, he’s faced with a long hallway ended by a single door, just as ornate as the great hall. He stands before it for several moments, not quite sure what’s supposed to be happening, and knocks. 

“Enter!” someone calls, the word coming out quick. He again does as he’s told, again finding an opulence beyond his previous imagination. This room, however, is a massive bedroom, currently home to a single man who sits crisply on his bed, a bowl in his hands.

Troy stares in the doorway, not knowing whether he should step in further. “Uh, hello?”

“Hello,” the man says, and takes a bite of oatmeal from the bowl. 

“I’m not sure I’m in the right place.”

“Are you Troy Barnes?”

“Yes?”

“Then you’re in the right place,” he says. With that apparently settled, he proceeds, “Please don’t call me prince; I prefer Abed. That area over there is yours to do whatever you want with, and your quarters are down on the other side of the hall. Technically you’re supposed to be guarding me all the time, but, let’s face it, I don’t get attacked that often, so I don’t really mind if you take some time off. You’ll always know ahead of time if there’s some important diplomatic event happening, so just plan around those.”

Troy stares at Abed for a long moment. He doesn’t seem to mind, just eats his oatmeal. “I’m sorry, is there a Starbucks around here?”

A quizzical look. “A what?”

“A Starbucks. Like, the coffee chain.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s some coffee in the kitchen. You’re welcome to that, too. Just don’t bring me any thinking you’re being kind; I won’t drink it.”

Okay, different strategy. “Who are you?” 

"Is this some kind of a joke? You should know I'm not great with those."

“Not a joke. I don’t know where I am, or who you are.”

“Huh,” Abed says, finally standing. He sets his oatmeal down and crosses to look at Troy more closely, as if assessing. “Then I’m guessing you also didn’t complete guard training.”

“I played quarterback on my high school football team.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I do think I know what’s going on here. How much do you remember?”

“I… don’t know. I remember some things from my past, like that I went to high school in a geographically ambiguous mid-sized American town, and played football there, and that I got hired at a Starbucks. I know the name of that guy in the really big room out there, and I remember moving from out there into here,” Troy says. For the first time, he looks down at himself. He’s wearing some sort of weird soldier’s uniform he doesn’t remember putting on. “Why don’t I remember more than that?”

“I can explain. Follow me for some compact exposition,” Abed says, turning on his heel and walking to a desk in the far corner of the room. Troy comes to stand beside him, looking over the sea of books and notebooks which cover the desk’s surface. 

“I believe that we are in the beginning scenes of a fanfiction,” Abed says, pulling upon a thick book and flipping through it. “And I think you might be in the wrong one.” Finally, he finds the correct page and lays the book flat on the desk, pointing around at the page. “See? 

It says _Coffee Shop Universe._

Troy has absolutely no idea what he’s seeing. 

“As a prince with few responsibilities, I spend a lot of time alone, and a few years ago I started studying the possibility of alternate universes. I believe that this is a fanfiction, or fanfic, and that there are infinitely many other universes existing alongside ours, playing out other scenarios in which we interact with alternate versions of our social networks. That’s how you know General Winger. Is he a regular at your coffee shop?”

“My boss, actually.”

“That follows. I believe that by some conveniently unexplained twist of fate, you came to exist in the wrong universe-- my universe,” Abed says, pointing to another point on the page, which reads _Royalty Universe_. “That’s why you know how to make coffee and not how to be a guard. By my hypothesis, there’s a royal guard named Troy out there, probably standing confused in a coffee shop right now, and possibly interacting with a coffee-shop dwelling, non-royal version of myself. Which is interesting, because I cannot imagine drinking coffee in absolutely any universe.”

“We also serve teas, fraps, and bakery goods,” Troy says, pretty automatically, and certainly for lack of anything better. “This is wrinkling my brain.”

“Understandable. But that’s not all. If this is the beginning of a fanfic in this universe, but it’s not supposed to involve you, there’s bound to be some other rising action coming before long. We should prepare.”

“We should _what?”_

“You should get ready to guard me.”

“I should _what?”_

“We can figure out a way to get you back to your own universe, and perhaps get my Troy back to this universe, but first we must obey the rules of this universe so we live long enough to put that to use. Considering the event should be one which emphasizes the royal setting, we should anticipate either royal family intrigue or an attack on the kingdom. Let’s hope it’s the former.”

As Abed speaks, he moves to and fro across his room, gathering some of his books and notebooks in one bag which he hands to Troy, and some clothes in another. Troy is starting to catch on to the main themes taking place here-- certainly, he feels the sense of impending doom Abed is generating-- but he’s not entirely sure what Abed is doing. Still, he has to admire his confidence, especially when he turns to look Troy in the eye and say, firmly, just short of sharply, “We’re going.” 

Troy doesn’t have to get what’s happening to know not to mess with that. 

He follows Abed through winding back hallways within what he now realizes is a full castle, obeying when Abed holds a finger to his lips while entering certain areas. Abed guides them through to the pantry, where he grabs some bread and dried meats, and then to a storage closet. 

“Grab some supplies,” he instructs, seeming to keep watch. 

“What kind? There are a thousand bottles in here, and most of them are unlabeled.”

“Bandages, and maybe one or two of those bottles. It probably doesn’t matter. If this is a fanfic, we will have what we need.”

Troy shrugs that off and throws them in the bag with the food, and they head out the back door to a beautiful stretch of land. “Cool, we made go bags. Where to now? And what are we even running from?”

He’s barely gotten the words out before the ground begins to shake, rumbling under a torrent of distant horses’ hooves. 

“Them.”

“Surround the premises!” Someone shouts in the distance, and mounted soldiers obey, riding around to aim arrows at the castle from all sides. Something else is shouted, but Troy doesn’t quite catch it under the sound of wind in his ears as Abed grabs his wrist and runs. 

“This must have been why my father ordered more security for the castle,” Abed shouts behind him. “We have to hide.” 

“Yes, I am definitely on board with that,” Troy says. “There! Those trees!” 

The patch of forest is strangely dark for the time of, smelling thickly of green and atwitter with the sounds of woodland creatures. They stop a few paces in.

“Okay,” Troy says, catching his breath, “So let me get something straight. I’m in the wrong world?”

“'World' is putting it generously. It’s a mini-universe specifically tailored to carry out archetypal narratives. But you are in the wrong one, and quite frankly, considering the look of those soldiers and your total lack of training, I’m not sure you’ll be able to survive here.”

“Well, that’s fine, because I’m going back. I’m supposed to start training a new coworker today.”

“Of course you are. It never hurts to have a friendly character to riff off of. I’ll help you get back, and then maybe you can send me the Troy destined to live out this war with me.”

“Okay, great. How do I get back?”

“I’ll need some time to figure that out.” Distantly, they can still hear the shouts of enemy soldiers, now mixed with the battle cries of Abed’s family’s own army.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not well trained, but I’d rather fight some squirrels then those guys. We should head deeper and get comfortable.”

“Agreed,” Abed says, his voice still crisp, almost robotic. Together, they venture deeper, trying their best to navigate the unkempt terrain with their bags on their back. They make it a few yards deeper when Abed steps on a thick branch which rolls out from under him, sending him to the ground. 

“Abed!” Troy calls, stepping carefully toward him and kneeling at his side. “You’re bleeding.” Sure enough, a thorned branch has cut through the thin material of Abed’s shirt sleeve and left a gash on his arm. Without prompt, Troy rips part of his pant leg away and uses it to dab up the blood, then grabs the bandage from the bag and begins dressing Abed’s arm as best he can. 

“I’m so glad you said to grab bandages,” he says. “You’re really smart.”

“I don’t think I am. By grabbing bandages I was dooming us to need them. Rookie mistake. Don’t want anyone shot, don’t bring out Chekov’s gun.”

“Do they have that phrase at this time?”

“Probably not, but that’s not a requirement of the genre. And besides, I’m a half-Arab, half-Polish autistic person occupying a Western European-style prince role. The universe is generous,” Abed says, watching Troy’s meticulous work. He finishes, tying off the bandages and ripping them off with his teeth. “Maybe you’re a pretty good guard after all.”

“I used to play with my little sister in our backyard a lot, before our mom got home. I always took care of her if she got scraped up.”

“That’s cute.” 

They hang there in that moment for a while, finally taking a moment to see each other with minds racing slightly slower. 

Finally, Abed says, “I should get to work. Dump all those medical supplies and hand me my books.” 

Troy gives him a look. “Yes, your highness.”

“Sorry,” Abed says. “I’m pretty used to ordering people around. Could you please hand me my books?”

“What should I do?” Troy asks, handing them over. He looks around, but only finds more non-descript forest. 

“Something in keeping with the genre, or grab a book and try to catch up a little,” Abed says, taking out the same book he was looking at earlier and flipping through it. “We’re one major breakthrough from being out of the exposition, and I don’t really want to keep explaining things.”

With that, they enter a comfortable near-silence, the sound of the battle lost in the rustle of the light wind in the trees. Troy tries to focus, finally wrapping his head around this whole multiple-universe thing, but he can’t resist the wandering of his mind. There’s another version of himself out there somewhere, possibly in the universe he belongs to. What is he doing there? How alike is he to Troy, and how is he different? Has he struck up a conversation with coffee-shop-Abed, tied to him by the inter-universal strings of fate? Has he already gotten Troy fired, or is Jeff waiting until the end of the day? And, as a guard, is he as badass as he sounds?

“I think I’ve got something,” Abed says suddenly, jerking Troy to attention. He continues, “From what I can find, each universe should have a selection of comfortable narrative transition points when switching between universes should be easiest. I believe if we see this universe through to one of those points, and then break radically out of the flow of the universe, we might be able to access another universe.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘we’? I need to go back, but you belong here,” Troy says, taking a long look at him. 

“I’m definitely going.” Abed holds up one finger at a time. “One, I have extensive knowledge on the potential workings of these universes and how to navigate them. You have none. You need me to help you through. Two, you don’t know how dangerous this journey may become. There’s no way to tell what universe we will be entering before we enter it. It’ll be safer if you have someone with you, just in case something goes wrong. Three, no spoilers for future chapters, but we may need to pose as a couple in order to navigate social situations within the universes and avoid trouble. Four, my home is at war, and I really don’t feel like sticking around and watching it. Five, I want to make sure I get access to my version of Troy as soon as possible, rather than hoping you make it, send him, and he makes it back.”

“Fine! Alright, we can go together," Troy says, watching a look of satisfaction come over Abed's face. "So, you said we just have to come to a natural transition? What does that mean, exactly? Do we, like, say a chant when it happens? Is there some magical object to activate?”

“This isn’t a fantasy world, Troy. We have to recognize some significant cut in the plot as we’re experiencing it-- think like the end of a chapter-- and displace ourselves from this reality to thrust ourselves into another one.”

Troy nods, his eyes wide. “So. Like. By rubbing a stone.”

“Are you ready to start an adventure together, Troy?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Abed clears his throat, leans back, and yells into the forest, “I am a happy, healthy, asexual, autistic person!”


	2. Soulmate AU

In the following moment, Troy and Abed appear in the next universe over. 

"Where are we?" Troy asks. 

"The next universe over," Abed answers. They're standing outside a mid-scale restaurant with a large patio which wraps around the side. "I take it it's not yours."

"Can't say it is."

"In retrospect, we should have waited for the next natural narrative shift and taken the time to go over some of the universes we might encounter, but I guess it will be exciting to think on our feet." 

“Seems like we don’t have much choice,” Troy says, then doubts himself. “Right?”

“Right.”

“So, in that case, what kind of universe is this?”

“From the restaurant setting, my best guess is a blind date story, or maybe a waiter/customer-on-a-bad-date story. Could be waiter/waiter or something, but my research didn’t reveal much of that.”

“Okay. So, in a universe which is neither of our own, are we just waiting for the lull in their story, and then we do something weird?”

“I’m afraid not. This is a fanfic about us-- this version of us, the version jumping across universes. We have to remain active, or the medium doesn’t move forward. It’s our mission to participate in the story enough to be a part of the narrative shift-- to be in the universe before we can break out of it.”

“Woah. I’ve never been on a mission before.”

“It’s exciting,” Abed says, with his characteristic even temper.

“In that case, I think we should start by finding ourselves,” Troy says, clearly proud to be following along, even if he takes a second to correct himself: “Finding the other version of ourselves. The ones that belong in this universe.”

“I agree, and I doubt this setting is accidental. Let’s investigate.”

They peer rather conspicuously through the front window toward the inside of the restaurant, finding no sign of either of them. They look more closely around the patio, then where it stretches around the corner, finally finding an Abed sitting there, playing on his phone. They hide from his view, crouching behind a shrub and using slightly hushed voices. 

“Wait, you came from the past, right? Do you even know what he’s holding?” Troy asks. “I do not want to take the time to explain hundreds of years of modern technology to you.” 

“I probably couldn’t use a phone if you handed it to me, but I’m familiar with the concept from my research. That’s how I recognized the setting.” 

“This must be super weird for you,” Troy says, looking around at the fashions, the architectures-- all very different from the world Abed fled. “Not that this isn’t super weird in general.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to balance my social and environmental awareness to that of those around me. I’m kind of an old pro at rolling with the punches, those others might not perceive as punches at all. I can't say it's comfortable, but I’ll be okay.”

Troy nods. Then, “How about we make a deal. Since you’re helping me figure out all of this universe stuff, I’ll help you figure out any of the little stuff you have trouble with. Cell phones. Cars. Interacting with strangers on the street when you really just want to pet their dog. That sort of thing.”

“On one condition: we acknowledge that the creation of that deal formalizes our relationship from one of strangers accidentally sharing an adventure to two adventurers engaging in that journey together. It’s an inevitability, relationship-development-wise, but I would rather speed things along and start trusting you.”

“So, friends.”

“Friends.”

“Why am I in a bush?” Troy asks, but his mouth doesn’t move. He looks up to find himself staring down at the two, eyes wide in shock.

Troy just stares at himself for a long moment, then says, “You’re not.”

Restaurant-Troy’s eyes widen even further, making it seem as though he’s at risk of them popping out of his head. “Yes, I am,” he whispers in disbelief. “I’m right there. But I’m right here.” 

“Do you know who I am?” Abed asks calmly. Restaurant-Troy shakes his head. “What did you come here to do?”

“Who are you?” Restaurant-Troy asks. 

“Answer his question, Troy,” Starbucks-Troy says. 

“Annie said she found my soulmate,” he says, still shocked. “I was supposed to meet him here. I wasn’t supposed to meet myself!” 

“That’s him,” Starbucks-Troy says, pointing to Prince Abed. “He’s your soulmate. I’m, uh, you, and I came to deliver him to you, because I’m your self-mate. Didn’t you ever hear about that part of the-- the soulmate thing?”

“No!” 

“Well, you have to believe it now, because it’s happening!” Troy says, with forced excitement. He exchanges a couple of glances with Prince Abed, some questioning and some insistent, before Abed slaps on a smile. 

“Yep, that’s me. Your soulmate. Pr-- Abed.” Abed stands, pauses a moment as if to present himself, half-expectant. When Restaurant-Troy just stares at him, he mutters to Starbucks-Troy, “Do people not bow anymore?”

Starbucks-Troy shakes his head furiously. Abed continues smiling. 

Restaurant-Troy looks close to hysterics, but pulls himself together enough to ask, “Well, can I see it?”

Abed casts another questioning glance down at Starbucks-Troy, who shrugs in equal confusion, eyes briefly falling to Abed’s pants before returning to his eyes. 

Just in the nick of time, Restaurant-Troy rolls up his hoodie sleeve, revealing a swirling black pattern stretching the length of the front of his arm. Abed nods in recognition, but doesn’t move to do the same. “I can’t,” he says. “Because I… hurt my arm. See? It’s all bandaged up.” 

“It's the other arm,” Restaurant-Troy says. “What happened to your arm? Actually, why are you dressed in old-timey clothes?” His voice goes quiet and serious before he asks, “Are you a time traveller?”

It is at this moment that it occurs to Starbucks-Troy that this isn’t going well. 

“Yes,” Abed says. 

“This is wrinkling my brain,” Restaurant-Troy says. “I had no idea time travel is possible. Can you go back again? Can we get a pet dinosaur? Can we kill Hitler? Oooh. Can we meet Michael Jackson?”

“I don’t kno--” Abed starts to say. Troy fakes a cough, and he cuts to, “Sure we can. Pardon me one moment while I talk to my… associate.”

He just kinda squats back down to behind the shrub, even though Restaurant-Troy can still see them. 

“What do we do?” Starbucks-Troy asks. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think they can meet now.”

“Well, what do we do with them? Are they going to be okay when we leave?”

“I have no idea. I did see any other situation like this in my research. We should probably try to correct things as much as possible. If only we could just start the universe over."

“Wait, that’s it!” Troy says. “I’ve got an idea.” He bolts up and says to Restaurant-Troy, “Listen closely. You’re dreaming.”

Restaurant-Troy’s many emotions drain from his face, replaced with disappointment and resignation. “Oh. That makes sense."

“But that’s okay! You’re still going to wake up and meet this man,” he says, pointing to Prince Abed, who stands, too, “but later.”

“Will he really be a time traveller?”

“No. But don’t worry,” Troy smiles. “He’s pretty cool.”

“Okay. Can I wake up now?”

“No,” Abed says. “Where did you fall asleep? A park bench?”

“I don’t think so,” Restaurant-Troy says. “I passed through the park, but I wouldn’t stop there. Those squirrels are not to be trusted.”

“Are you sure?” Abed asks.

“I’m pretty sure you did,” Starbucks-Troy says. “You just sat for a minute, but went out like a light. Weirdest thing.” 

“Let’s go see if we can find that bench,” Abed says, starting to walk away.

“The park is the other way,” Restaurant-Troy says. “I think. Wait. Now I’m not sure.”

“Funny how dreams go! Too bad you won't remember it!” Starbucks-Troy says. Abed turns around, and together he and Restaurant-Troy walk toward the park. 

With him gone, Starbucks-Troy crosses the patio and sits in front of Restaurant-Abed, who finally sets down his phone. 

“You’re dreaming,” Troy says without preamble.

Abed blinks at him. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not. 

“Yes you are. You’re dreaming, dude.”

“No I’m not. Are you Troy?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, but I don’t get the bit. What’s it from?”

“Nothing,” Troy says. “Your friend put me up to it.”

“You mean Annie? She’s more your friend than mine. I just met her yesterday.” He thinks for a moment. “You’re not really Troy, are you?”

“No, I’m not, ‘cause you’re dreaming.”

“I’m not dreaming. Is this a prank or is something wrong with the universe?”

“Definitely the second one.”

Abed nods. “Cool. So what’s going on?”

Troy bets on the fact that if his Abed understood it, this one might too (--well, not _his_ Abed, but--). “You’re in a fanfiction, and I’m from another universe.”

“That’s amazing.” 

“You believe me?"

“It makes the most sense of anything you’ve said so far. Also, you’re wearing an old soldier’s uniform, so being from another universe checks out.”

“It’s a guard, actually.”

Abed nods. “Interesting. So, is my soulmate not coming?”

“Um. No. You need to go find him, actually. He wanted to come see you, but he got trapped in the park because he's afraid of squirrels." 

"My soulmate is afraid of squirrels?"

"They can climb vertical surfaces and jump and have sharp little claws. It's very rational. You better go save him. Oh, and you can never, ever mention this, or the universe will break down." 

"I understand," Restaurant-Abed says, standing up and grabbing his messenger bag. "Thank you, mysterious universe-jumper. Your condensed combination of exposition and call to action are appreciated."

"Anytime," Troy nods. He stays seated there, sipping Abed's abandoned Sprite until his own Abed (--or, well, you know--) gets back. "How did it go?"

"I think he bought it. Their storyline may include a weird scene in which they both admit to having experienced what just took place, but we're good for now."

"Does that make this the natural shift? Can I do something crazy, like pull a baby kangaroo out of this backpack?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Overjoyed, Troy reaches down into the backpack. While he’s rooting around, Annie, one of his regulars at the shop, runs up to them in absolute delight.

“Hey guys!” She says, barely able to contain her excitement. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t resist!”

“Oh, hey, Annie,” Troy says, settling the bag back in his lap. Abed gives a little wave. 

“So? Was I right? Do your soulmate marks match?”

“Um,” Troy starts. 

“Yes. They do,” Abed says, sounding forced.

“Yay, you did it, Annie!” Troy says.

“Great!” She grins expectantly. They fail to deliver. “Can I see them?”

“No,” Abed says simply. 

“You’ve seen them before,” Troy says. 

“I barely know you,” Abed continues. 

“Why look at our marks when you can look at our bond?” Troy says, slowing down with every word. He reaches across the table and takes Abed’s hands in his, trying very hard to both smile romantically at Abed and look Annie in the eye at the same time.

“The mark got us here, but our relationship has moved beyond that,” Abed confirms, reciprocating and laying into it. 

“Okay,” Annie says, unconvinced. “Is there a reason you two are dressed like that?” 

“We’re matching, Annie. We belong together.”

“Are you questioning our love?” Abed asks. 

“No! No, no, of course not. Well, good for you guys. I’m glad I could make this happen!” She says. “Abed, allow me to be the first to invite you to Sunday brunch with Troy and our friends tomorrow! We can’t wait to meet you!” She gives them another once-over. “Wear whatever you want.” 

With a little wave, she hurries off, leaving Troy and Abed alone in the public of this universe.

“We have to go, now.”

Troy nods in agreement. “I couldn’t find a baby kangaroo earlier. We’ll have to find something else.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah.” After a final moment, Troy finally draws his hands away from Abed's. He steps up onto his chair, then the table, and yells, “Excuse me, everyone. I have an announcement to make.” The world hushes, turns to look at him. He realizes he actually does not have an announcement to make. “A latte is cheaper than a macchiato, but they taste the same. Stop wasting 80 cents for a longer word.” 

That does not work. 

“I lie about being able to play guitar and hope that no one will ever call me on it.”

Troy looks down at Abed. “Try something outside the realm of what this universe could understand,” Abed suggests.

Troy tries one more time. 

“This man is not my soulmate, but we’re together anyway!”


End file.
